


drugs, sex, and attempted arrests

by hypathetical



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blow Jobs, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, druglord!cas, policeofficer!dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-27
Updated: 2015-08-27
Packaged: 2018-04-17 14:16:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4669694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hypathetical/pseuds/hypathetical
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>❝When you’re the head of the narcotics department, you see a lot. And Dean had been doing drugs busts for years. It was practically second nature by now. So why should this one be any different?❞</p><p>In which Dean Winchester is a police officer sent to investigate a large drug ring run by an enigmatic man known as the Angel. Of course, things never really go as planned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	drugs, sex, and attempted arrests

**Author's Note:**

> this was originally written for my friend eli [ ithinkitscalleddestiel ] and their horny vine friends but i shared it on here, too.
> 
> please leave comments and feedback! i always like to hear what you guys think.

When you’re the head of the narcotics department, you see a lot. And Dean had been doing drugs busts for years. It was practically second nature by now. So why should this one be any different?

The latest guy he was after called himself the Angel. He had a huge drug ring in South Dallas, and the center of it was in a neighbourhood between a bunch of concert venues. It was a pretty smart setup, but the Angel had made one classic mistake: he’d fallen for the sting operation. The department had sent in Garth, one of the rookies, about a week ago. The kid was so clueless, even Dean probably would’ve bought it.

But regardless, Garth had done his job: he’d came back with two ounces of cocaine, a police sketch, and an address on his first try. Now that some time had passed, it was time to shut this place down. Dean had insisted on going in on his own; he’d seen too much go wrong when someone else from the force was involved.

Pulling up at the address Garth had given him, Dean checked the clock: midnight. The only customers now were the desperate insomniacs and those too high to care what happened anyways. Nothing he couldn’t handle. After loading both of his handguns and pocketing a blank tape recorder, he got out of the unmarked car and started towards the house. It looked like any other place on this street: run-down, broken windows, loud music coming from inside.

Reaching the front door, Dean found it unlocked. When he stepped inside, a small wave of relief washed over him. This was like most of the places he’d been to, which meant the same easy routine. The main area was a dark room with glowing neon lights, making it harder for the people here to be identified in a lineup, and overly crowded, with talking and drinking and shooting up everywhere.

Dean was just beginning to worry that he would never find the Angel in this mess of people when he reached the living room. There he was, no doubt about it. Dean knew the look. All the big drug lords had it. Although, the police sketch didn’t really do the Angel justice. He wasn’t the usual creepy fifty-something. He had bright blue eyes and looked about the same age as Dean. Of course, that just made his job a lot more interesting. With the usual guys, you just had to ask to “speak to them in private,” and they’d just assume you wanted to make an edgier deal. With younger guys, though, most of them hadn’t been using for twenty, thirty years, and that made them smarter.

“Can I help you?”

Mentally kicking himself, Dean realised he’d been staring. Oddly enough, the Angel sat alone, watching everyone. Most of these guys had at least two cocaine-addicted whores in their lap at any given time. Taking a deep breath, Dean stepped over a few half-passed-out college students on the floor and stopped in front of the Angel, still standing.

“Yeah,” Dean said, his voice rougher and lower than usual. “My buddy said this was a good place to pick up anything I needed. You think you can help me out?”

“Depends on how much money you got,” the Angel replied, barely giving him a second glance.

That simply wouldn’t do. Dean needed his attention on him. And if this arrest was gonna go smoothly, he also needed to get them alone, with fewer witnesses. Of course, there was a surefire way to make that happen, but Dean had never had to do that before. Telling himself that this was just for the job, he made eye contact with the Angel.

“I don’t have any cash on me right now. Any...alternative forms of payment?”

The corners of the Angel’s mouth turned up in a practically feral smile. “Usually, I’d say no, but with a face like yours, I’m sure we can work something out.”

Dean could feel his cheeks burning as the Angel looked around the room and added, “Maybe here isn’t the best place for that. I can talk to you in the back.”

He nodded, trying not to look overly serious and business-like. “Lead the way.”

They walked down a darkened hallway, Dean’s hand instinctively reaching for the handgun at his hip. He had to remind himself to relax. He wasn’t going to have to do anything. He just had to get the Angel alone. They suddenly came to a stop outside of a room, and Dean cursed himself for not remembering the way back out. When the Angel pulled him inside, however, he noticed that it was, of course, a dimly lit bedroom.

“So. What do you want and how much?”

In one swift motion, Dean pulled out his pistol and turned the safety off. He pointed it directly at the Angel’s forehead. “I want you to walk out of here and back to the station quietly, and I want it pretty bad.”

Tilting his head slightly, an amused smile played at the Angel’s lips as he raised his hands over his head. “Really, Officer, could you be any more obvious?”

Dean shrugged. “And yet, here you are.”

“Fair enough.” With his hands still up, the Angel stepped forward, close enough that Dean could see every shade of blue in his eyes. “How about this: if I can convince you that you shouldn’t arrest me, you leave and come back tomorrow instead.”

This was the part where Dean made a typical procedural-cop-show laugh, pointed the gun against his temple, and forced him back to the car. It wasn’t like the Angel was in much of a position to make bargains. But instead, he found himself saying: “Convince me? I’d like to see you try.”

That was apparently all the permission the Angel needed.

He practically pounced on Dean, kissing him insistently, hands knocking his handgun to floor and tangling in his hair. Dean could barely think, barely react. He’d never done this before. This wasn’t part of the job; this wasn’t part of anything. It was just him. Well, and the Angel, who had somehow managed to move them onto the bed and was now straddling him.

Breaking the kiss for a moment, the Angel looked him in the eyes. It was unnerving, to say the least.

“What’s your name?” he asked, sounding out of breath.

For a moment, Dean had forgotten his own name. He was still trying to wrap his head around this, that he was going to _fuck a drug dealer_. “Dean.”

“Pleasure,” the Angel replied, the corner of his mouth turning up in a smirk. “I’m Castiel.”

Without giving Dean a chance to process, Castiel kissed him again, barely leaving room for breathing, or thinking, for that matter—which, given what Dean was doing right now, was probably for the best. He didn’t protest when Castiel pulled his shirt off, his hands pressing against his chest. Or when Castiel took off his own hoodie, holding himself up with one increasingly-shaky arm as he tried to claim as much of Dean as he physically could. Or when they both ended up in nothing but their boxers, Castiel’s free hand moving steadily lower. Or when they were practically flush as Castiel’s fingers hooked themselves around Dean’s waistband.

It wasn’t until Castiel started pulling down Dean’s boxers that he snapped out of it. As if sensing the sudden hesitation, Castiel looked up at him, breaking the kiss. “This okay?” he asked, voice low and rough and _sexy as hell_.

Dean sucked in a deep breath. He’d already started. Might as well have some good sex and an arrest while he was at it. Of course, this had nothing to do with the fact that Castiel was gorgeous and horny and already getting hard. Nope. Strictly business. “Yeah,” he grunted. “Just keep going.”

Smirking slightly, Castiel pulled Dean’s boxers down in one quick motion, moving farther down his stomach. Dean barely registered the cold air before he felt Castiel take him in his mouth.

“Shit,” he gasped, head thrown back, fingers clutching at the sheets instinctively. “Oh God.”

Castiel seemed to think this was encouragement, his tongue in all the right places, hands working what he couldn’t take. Dean tried to bite back his moans and not come then and there. It never would’ve occurred to him before that the best he’d ever had could be a guy. Any last thoughts or regrets or dignity or semblance of duty to the police force had flown out the window the second Castiel’s lips had closed around him.

Then there was that familiar sensation, like teetering on the edge of a cliff, and Dean knew he wasn’t gonna last. “Ah, Cas, I’m gonna–”

Dean rode out the white-hot release, his fingers tangled beyond hope in Castiel’s hair. He barely noticed when Castiel pulled Dean’s boxers back on, moving so he was still just above Dean, face-to-face. Castiel looked wrecked, his hair plastered across his forehead and his breathing still a bit heavy.

“Cas, huh?” he asked. “I can dig that.”

Dean nodded in response, still feeling like his bones were made of jello. “ That was–”

“–good enough?” Cas finished, looking hopeful.

“Oh, hell yeah.”

An hour later, Dean arrived back at the station. His hair was relatively normal, clothes back on, and lips less swollen. He’d promised Cas that he’d be back tomorrow to truly arrest him...unless, of course, Cas could yet again convince him otherwise.

“Winchester!” Benny, an older officer, greeted him the second he stepped back inside. “You’re back later than we expected, brother. You didn’t find the Angel?”

Dean shook his head. “Everyone had cleared out. I searched the whole place, top to bottom. But I can go back tomorrow one more time, if you’d like.”

“You sure that won’t be too much work?” Benny asked.

“Nah.” Dean sat down, propping his feet up on the desk. “It won’t be any trouble at all.”


End file.
